


Parallel

by pechekeen



Series: Wavelengths [4]
Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Artist Timmy, Fluff, M/M, Slow Burn, also a lot of poorly timed humor, like a l o t, podcast/voice actor armie, there's extreme fluff here, we're getting warmer guys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-25
Updated: 2018-05-01
Packaged: 2019-04-27 16:38:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14429763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pechekeen/pseuds/pechekeen
Summary: par·al·lel/ˈperəˌlel/adjective1. (of lines, planes, surfaces, or objects) side by side and having the same distance continuously between them.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just a heads up- i won't be able to upload anything from thursday to saturday because i'll be going on a short trip! that's also why i'm cramming into two chapters today and hopefully another tomorrow :')

It's been a little over two weeks since he had texted Armie, and he had to admit...the guy was pretty cool so far. They still didn't chat verbally, or meet up face to face, for one reason or another, but they always managed to have some sort of conversation throughout the day. Timothée still sang whenever the two of them were outside on their respective balconies, and Armie still slipped notes into his mailbox, even though they texted each other.

_'It's like a ritual now, T. You sing, I write, and then we talk about it like this, over the phone.'_

That's what Armie said when he had pointed out how funny it was, and he agreed. He actually liked getting those notes. His knowledge of who Armie was grew day by day, and he was pretty fascinated in the man. Armie was seven years older than him, he did have two children (who were the lights of his life), a dog named Archie, a pretty crazy schedule (he still didn't know what Armie's occupation was) that had him worn out during the early hours of the nights, he liked to eat _a lot_ (it was hard to go half an hour without Armie mentioning food in one way or another), and he was from an array of other interesting places.

He had told Armie a few tidbits of information about himself that correlated with the current topic. Things like his age, his sister- Pauline, how he favored dogs over cats, where he was from, and his rocky relationship with sleep. The last one had brought up some air of concern, but Timothée had played it off like it wasn't a big deal. _'It helps my inspiration in a way,_ ' he had said when Armie wouldn't let up on how sleep's "pretty important." Of course, he knew how important sleep was, but it seemed like a nearly impossible thing to achieve when his mind was plagued by one thing or another.

Timothée had to admit, though, he had been able to rest a bit easier since he started texting Armie. It was just...nice to know that someone else sort of cared about him. His parents were states over and Pauline was in France. Most of his friends were scattered around the world as well, and he lacked with having a lot of strong bonds with the other artists in the community. Well, not on a professional level because he did good enough when it came to maintaining contact and being up to date with the latest news. Any other meaningful social interactions, though? Yeah, Armie was probably one of the very few that he enjoyed talking to.

The level of comfort the two of them seemed to fall into had been pretty rapid. There was just something about Armie that made him feel like it was okay to slowly confide in the man. Timothée reasoned that the worst that could happen was that they would lose all contact between texting and the peculiar interaction of singing and writing. It would suck big time to lose that, but so far Armie seemed to be on the same wavelength as him with a lot of things. And, even when the older man didn't agree with his views or opinions, it wasn't like Armie went out of his was to bash on him for it. His neighbor actually wanted to hear his side of things and discuss it if anything.

With that being said, though, neither one of them had really breached the subject of relationships. Potential interests had been something they started to dip their toes in, but it hadn't gotten too far other than some offhand comment about liking a particular feature in a person. Timothée was still in the dark about what his neighbor's situation was, and Armie didn't know about his whole spiel about Saoirse. Yet he knew that there would come a day where some of that changed.

\-----------------------------------------

Timothée had been jolted awake from the insistent blaring of his alarm. It took him several minutes to figure out where his phone was since it wasn't on his nightstand. He rolled over and realized that there were ear buds still lodged in his ears. Oh, right. It had been difficult for him to fall asleep so he had played the latest few episodes of _A Bloody Good Time_ until he passed out.

He groaned and patted around his body to find the device. A large breath was sucked in as he squinted his eyes against the sunlight that filtered through the window. He didn't _need_ to get up right away since he always set his first alarm half an hour early, but he tried to make it a habit to at least try. So, after thinking about his schedule for today, Timothée slowly got up and shuffled around to wash up.

The second alarm went off by the time he put his clothes on. Timothée turned it off and shrugged on an oversized hoodie and outside to get his mail from the lobby. His eyes remained squinted as he made his way downstairs and he tried to rub the remaining sleep from his eyes a few times. The glass door had just been opened when he noticed someone chatting at the front desk. Timothée didn't pay attention to it and went about his way to get his mail, but his footsteps slowed when he was able to actually hear the conversation.

There was something about that _voice_ that pinged some sense of recognition within him. His brows furrowed as he tried to figure out where he had heard it from, but he remained unsuccessful even when he pulled his mail out. Sure enough, the note sat on top of the envelopes and it made a tiny smile curl on his lips.

_"Alright, yeah- we should! I'll catch you later, though. I have to run before I'm late again."_

Timothée heard the other man call out as he pulled his phone to send a text to Armie.

**Thu, Apr 26,** 10:02 AM

**_[Timothée]_ **

Really digging your new stationary paper, Armz.

The text was sent as he eyed the scrap of pink paper that had was decorated with unicorns, blue ribbons, and cupcakes. There was a fond expression that touched his face as he pocketed his phone and looked up to lock the mail flap. The sound of heavy foot steps wandered past the hallway and he looked over out of instinct.

 _Holy shit._ Now, Timothée would admit that he wasn't exactly the perfect neighbor out there since he hardly stopped to have an actual conversation with the other occupants, but he couldn't fathom how he had missed this man before. The stranger was _huge_. He was definitely over six feet, and had a fitting structure of broad shoulders, toned arms, tanned skin.. The neatly styled, dirty blond hair contrasted the darker toned five o'clock shadow. There was an easy smile pulled across the man's face as he looked down at the cell phone that sat in his hands- really _large_ hands. It had Timothée gawking from the far end of the mail hallway, and he was glad that the man hadn't looked over when he passed by. He chanced a few steps forward and almost despised how the sunlight matched the man's bright stature. His eyes raked down the back of the stranger's form, and if his eyes lingered on the guy's ass.. well, no one had to know.

He felt stunned from the man's mere presence and managed to shake himself out of it after another few seconds. The lady that worked the front desk gave him a peculiar look as he passed by, but he just hunched his shoulders and went to the stairwell. Timothée almost jumped when he felt his phone vibrate. He read the message on the way up and chuckled.

**_[Armie]_ **

It was on sale and Hops refused to let it go

when she saw it. So sue me.

**_[Timothée]_ **

I was complimenting it, man. Not dissing it.

Tell her she has great taste [thumbs up emoji] [fire emoji]

Oh, also, I don't have much going on today..

So you have any requests for later? 

Something I'm not familiar with [eyes emoji]

**_[Armie]_ **

Wow, what a lucky duck you are.

I'll swap schedules with you.

I have back to back meetings and then some other plans

that I kind of don't want to go to [crying emoji]

**_[Timothée]_ **

Then don't.. go?

Just a suggestion and all.

**_[Armie]_ **

I can't believe I never thought of that!

You're a genius! [rolling eyes emoji] 

I have to go tho. My best friend's in town

and I haven't seen him in months.

I also won't be coming home tonight so rain check?

**_[Timothée]_ **

Oh, dude of course.

Definite rain check. Have a good time with your friend!

**_[Armie]_ **

Thanks, man.

Don't get too bored without me [tongue sticking out emoji]

**_[Timothée]_ **

I'll TRY not to [tongue sticking out emoji]

**_[Armie]_ **

I have faith in you, T.

Ok, I have to start this meeting

catch you later!

**_[Timothée]_ **

Yeah, later!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (wow did you guess who that smoking hot blond dude is? if you guessed armie then you're 100% right!)
> 
> also, [this is what the stationary paper looked like!](https://img.etsystatic.com/il/3426eb/1044331570/il_fullxfull.1044331570_8ecu.jpg?version=0)  
> this entire series will be heavily influenced based off of what all of you folks want to see so be sure to leave a comment on here or send me a message [over on my Tumblr! ](http://peche-keen.tumblr.com/)


	2. Tangent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ## tan·gent
> 
> /tanjənt/  
>  _noun_  
>  1\. a straight line or plane that touches a curve or curved surface at a point, but if extended does not cross it at that point.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here's a few references for what timmy's art is like!  
> [work done when saoirse and him were a thing](http://jackvanzet.tumblr.com/post/168373771571)  
> [what timmy is currently working on](http://jackvanzet.tumblr.com/post/167114046826)

_Interesting._

The word resounded in his head as his gaze lingered on the canvas before him. Timothée had the end of a brush pressed against his chin as he stared and stared. Something was different. Something's _been_ different. He wasn't bold enough to say that he had broken free from the block of creation, but he was making some sort of progress again.

None of the thumbnails from weeks before had been scrapped, even though it had been incredibly tempting to do so. They were all color; large and intermixed masses without any meaning. Timothée knew he could fabricate some insanely deep explanation if anyone asked, but the emptiness still remained within him. The connection wasn't there, and it ate at him for the better part of his nights. It was empty- so incredibly empty, and he loathed the way it reflected how he felt.

Still, he had worked up the courage to build a canvas and set it up on the easel near the balcony door. He had his own studio to work in, but it had been getting harder and harder for him to leave the apartment. It didn't worry him too much, though, since he was aware of his tendencies when the heavy cloak of depression decided to settle in.

The strong, mixed smell of oil paint and linseed oil permeated the air. It provided a shred of familiarity in the rather foreign mindset he had been presented once he sketched out an outline of this particular piece.

_Interesting._

He conjured the images of his previous works as he glanced through the thumbnails that sat in his lap. The pieces he had made last year were full and robust, spattered in rich tones of warmth with golden accents. It was abstract, much like a snapshot of water marbled surfaces, but it held an overwhelming sense of emotion. The thumbnails, though, were all flat and marked in greyscale - which wasn't out of the ordinary since he _had_ drawn in graphite - but if the snapshots actually meant anything then he would've been able to imagine them with the right hues and movement. Yet he hadn't- he _couldn't_.

A gentle breeze rolled inside and carried, with it, the unique smells of the city. There wasn't a hint of humidity in the air now, and he sorely missed the downpour. Timothée looked back up to the canvas and sighed. Well, nothing would happen if he didn't get a move on, he supposed. A rerun of A Bloody Good Time played in the background as he filtered all of his thoughts out. He dipped his brush in a blob of cerulean blue and dragged it through the viridian green before he mixed them. A small laugh almost escaped him as he painted the mixture onto the canvas. What an incredibly blue color for such a blue mood.

_Incredible._

\-----------------------------------------------  
It was well after dusk when he decided to stop painting for the day. His bones seemed to creak when he unwound himself from the hunched position he had stayed in for the past few hours. All of his brushes were washed without a rush and he put everything back into its place. The drying canvas was propped against the balcony wall to air out the smell and help it dry. He smoked a few cigarettes and noticed how often he glanced at his phone. There hadn't been a single message from Armie since this morning, but he wasn't really bothered by it. Timothée knew that he wasn't of the utmost importance, or that's what he assumed at least, and would've done the same if one of his best friends had come into town.

Still, he wouldn't lie and say that he didn't miss the spots of text messages every now and then. Timothée got himself to eat a late dinner and went to do laundry at the dead of night to preoccupy his mind and body. He waited in the communal laundry room as his clothes were drying, and folded them into the basket before he went back upstairs.

Timothée hummed quietly as he reached his door and opened it with his elbow. He hadn't bothered to lock the front door when he left to retrieve his laundry, but he really fucking should have. The first thing he noticed upon entering his room was that there was a pair of shoes that sat directly in front of the doorway. This had been brought to his attention when he nearly tripped over them as he walked forward. "The hell?" Timothée muttered when he looked down. He knew that those couldn't possibly been his own, because those were way too fucking big for him.

Unfortunately for him, the mystery didn't end there. Timothée already had a frown on his face from the shoe incident, but then he nearly keeled when he went into the living room. His couch faced away from the hallway, but he saw a _foot_ dangling off of the armrest. Then he heard what could only be described as _snoring_ , and he paled at the realization. Someone was in his apartment. Someone had actually walked into his apartment in the ten minute span he had gone to get his laundry. What the actual fuck?

The laundry basket was put down slowly before he slowly, oh so quietly, crept over to see who was laying on his couch. Imagine his surprise when he saw the mile-long body of the same man from that morning. Timothée stood by the foot of the couch, completely shocked and dumbfounded. His eyes felt like they were bulging out of their sockets from how wide he had rounded them.

Holy shit. Holy fucking shit.

Was he going to get mugged by a...well, the man on his couch was out like a light. Maybe there was another person lurking in his apartment, though. The thought made the fine hairs on the back of his neck stand on end, and caused him to tip-toe room to room. The worry and alarm had all been for nothing. The only other person inside of his place of residence was the handsome stranger in his living room. He let out a large breath of relief as he went back to look at said stranger.

Timothée crinkled his nose as he crouched down to be on the same level as the blond. The man snored quietly with his mouth slightly open. There wasn't a wrinkle in sight from how relaxed the stranger's features were, and Timothée wondered how old he was. He had to have been over his own age. Well, unless the guy looked older than his actual age, but there was something about him that didn't believe in that assumption. The stubble he had seen from afar made his fingers itch to run along the man's jaw and upper neck.

How in the world could anyone be this attractive? Timothée rocked back onto his heels as he wrapped his arms around his knees. He knew he needed to try and wake the man up, but he let himself indulge and stared for a while longer. Then, he reached out to gently shake the stranger on his shoulder. "Hey..." Timothée whispered as he shook him again.

Nothing. The man's breathing hadn't even changed as he kept snoring. Timothée's lips pursed into a deep frown but he dropped his hand and stood up. Well, it didn't look like he was going to wake up anytime soon, and there was _no way_ he could physically move him. Not when the guy was practically double his size.

Timothée sighed quietly and went into his bedroom to pull out a spare blanket. He draped it over the man's body and hesitated for a second before he went to get his laundry. All of his clothes were put away, but he tried to keep the sounds he made to a minimum. After that was done, he pondered on what he should do. Naturally, his first thought was to go to sleep, but he wasn't sure if he felt comfortable enough to drift off with a stranger in his living room.

He thought about his options for a solid half hour before he finally gave in. Of course, the one night his body actually felt fatigued enough to sleep at a reasonable time had to be when he was in an outlandish situation. Then again, he was a relatively light sleeper, so if anything happened he would surely wake up and be alerted of it. The door was left cracked open just so he could hear better from his bed. The usual routine of listening to the horror podcast was skipped over as he kept his ears peeled until he fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alright, i'm not going to lie here- i was really nervous with going down this route, but i saw this au prompt :You’re drunk and walked into the wrong apartment and fell asleep on my couch oh god you’re going to be so confused in the morning" and just _had_ to do it! now.. whether or not timmy and armie will finally connect two and two.. well, that's a mystery!
> 
> i also want to take some time and say that i really appreciate all of the feedback i've been getting so far on this series! it really means a lot to me (since i have a tendency to overthink things often) and the comments really do boost my interest to stay connected / frequent this series.
> 
> aaand this is the last bit i'll be posting on this platform for a few days, but you can always reach me [over on my Tumblr! ](http://peche-keen.tumblr.com/)


	3. Asymptote

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ## as·ymp·tote
> 
> /ˈasəm(p)ˌtōt/  
>  _noun_  
>  1\. a line that continually approaches a given curve but does not meet it at any finite distance.

There were plenty of words that could describe how he felt when the first pulls of consciousness came. The most prominent contained a string of curses that could out shame a sailor, because _holy fuck_ he felt like shit. Armie hadn't bothered to open his eyes when he started to wake up. The intense thudding in his cranium was a clear enough warning that he was either really fucking hungover or that he was still drunk. He chanced a small, controlled breath out of his nose and grimaced. How in the four corners of hell did it feel like his entire body got steamrolled _and_ gutted with some rusty, dull knife at the same time? Fuck, even his goddamn gum and teeth throbbed.

A moment came where he thought he was going to be sick, but the wave unraveled into an incredibly loud rumble from his stomach. When was the last time he ate? Hell if he knew, but he needed to eat something soon before his stomach ate itself. Armie carefully opened his eyes and was relieved when he wasn't met with a face full of sunlight like he always did in the morning. He rubbed his eyes and yawned big and wide before he started to slowly sit up. Everything threatened to spin and drop a second later and he stilled every single muscle in his body until the feeling passed.

Alright, so, he still might be drunk. He could live with that, but that just made him wonder how much he drank earlier- last night? Fuck, what time was it? He patted the pockets of his button up and then his pants to find his phone. The device was pulled out and.. and it was dead. Of course it was. A groan almost breached his lips, but he stifled the noise to save himself the grief of making his brain rattle around in his head. Armie decided to sit forward with his elbows rested on his knees instead. He gathered himself for a few more heart beats before he tried to get off of the couch.

Wait, couch? He’d admit that it’s been a good minute since he had gotten _this_ drunk, but he usually made it to the bed at least. Maybe he had been so wiped out that he collapsed onto the nearest available surface once he got home. Yeah, that was probably it, and he wasn’t sure how he felt about it. Small shreds of memories slowly came to him as he took his time to stand. He remembered getting to the restaurant five minutes early, having a nice chat with Nick while they ate, going to a nearby bar afterwards, having a few tall drinks and then.. slamming down shot after shot. His head almost reeled from the remembrance. God, how many drinks did he have? Armie took a step forward and grunted when his shin met the edge of a coffee table.

What?

He looked down and realized that he didn't recognize the piece of furniture. Actually.. now that he started to actually look around his surroundings, he didn’t fucking recognize _anything_. Just where the hell was he? Armie stood there completely dumbfounded and confused out of his mind. “What the hell..” he muttered out loud, and grimaced from how scratchy his voice was. It took another second or two before he realized that this.. wasn’t his place. This couldn’t be Nick’s place either, because he was staying in a hotel. _This_ wasn’t a five star room. It was lived in, somewhat messy and wholly unfamiliar. Just what the hell happened after he left the bar? He could vaguely recollect how he had given the taxi driver his address but that was about it.

Armie shuffled his way around the couch and started to peek around the place. Every little noise had him on edge and he had an acute feeling that he should leave; the biggest reason being how he had no idea who this place belonged to. Wait. Did he hook up with someone? He patted down his body like that would bring some answers to light. Which, it really didn’t since he was still fully clothed, save his shoes.

The throbbing in his head only got worse the longer he stayed standing, and he his sense of direction had gone to all hell apparently. It took him around five minutes to find the a door outside, and it wasn’t even the right one. He practically stumbled onto the balcony, and nearly crashed into a metal chair. The sharp slap of fresh, cold air sobered him up for a second as he steadied himself against the doorway.

 _Okay, hotshot, you found the fucking balcony but not the front door,_ he thought to himself sarcastically. Armie gave himself a little leeway with the excuse that he felt like the definition of pulverized meat. He leaned his aching head against the cold metal and slowly sighed out through his nose. Just a few minutes to gather himself again..

“Oh, you’re.. awake.” A low voice said to his left.

Armie nearly jumped out of his goddamn skin from the sudden break of silence. Thankfully, his skin stayed intact, but the sudden jerk of his head made his brain do at least three backflips. A hiss of pain was breathed out through his teeth as he winced. He looked over with narrowed eyes and a frown still settled heavily on his face. “Uh.. yeah, I’m awake,” he said with caution slowing his words. The person that spoke looked like he had just woken up too- given the tumble of dark curls and squinted eyes. The shirt he wore laid low around the man’s torso; low enough to reveal the sharp cut of the other’s collarbone and the long slope of his neck.

If he wasn’t in so much pain he might’ve snapped his eyes up to the stranger’s face right away, but his gaze tracked slowly. Either the guy was naturally really pale, or his half drunken, half hungover-esque brain was enhancing the slightest details. There was something in the way the stranger spoke that pulled at him as well, but he couldn't figure it out for the life of him. Hell, he couldn’t even find the goddamn front door in this miserable state. “Do I, uh.. know you?” Armie asked with the same careful drag of his words as he tried to keep his voice soft enough to not trigger a stampede in his head.

“I don’t think so?” The brunet’s face scrunched as he ran a hand through his hair. “I kind of just.. found you on my couch when I came back.”

Armie blinked at him once and then twice to have the words repeat in his head again. “You just found me on your couch.”

“Yeah, I tried to wake you up, but.. you were out cold.” The stranger shrugged as he spoke and looked towards the half opened door.

Realization unfurled at such a delayed time that it was nearly comical. The look on Armie’s face went from pure confusion to absolute horror when it all clicked. “Oh my god,” he said, barely above a whisper at first. “Oh.. my _god_. I just.. passed out on _your_ couch.” His voice raised slightly and he immediately grimaced in pain.

There was a clear look of sympathy on the brunet’s face when Armie had winced. “I have some Advil if you need it.”

The man started to backtrack when he spoke so Armie figured that he was going to get the painkillers where he said yes or no. “Please,” he said anyways and waited for the stranger’s return. He got a glass of water along the bottle, and he thanked him before he took the pills and downed the water.

“Thanks for, uh, this.” He empty glass and bottle was handed to the stranger as he leaned off of the doorway. “I’m just going to.. see myself out and get out of your hair- and thanks again by the way.” Armie rambled as he reassessed where he was with renewed energy; the same energy that had been birthed by the sheer outrageousness of what happened- is happening.

He found his shoes near the front door and toed them on with the hope that he could get outside without being spoken to again. Yet, as luck would have it, the stranger followed and stared at him. Armie might not know what he was doing (other than to _get out_ ), but he could practically feel the concern roll off of the brunet in waves.

“Are you sure you’re okay to-”

Yet Armie cut him off by messing with the locks. His fingers fumbled at first but he got them open and stepped out. “No, yeah, totally okay- just forget this ever happened,” he said in a rush as he looked around the hallway. It was eerily familiar, but he didn’t really _think_ about it as he gave a half assed wave before he sped walk towards the nearest door that looked like an exit.

All of the sudden movement made him feel even _worse_ , but he worked through it so he could figure out where the fuck he was. Armie went into the stairwell and paused the second he realized where he was. He’s been here before. Actually, he’s been here a lot of times before, because he was almost certain he lived here. _God_ , he had to ask himself just how much he fucking drank last night to be in such a disorientated state to not immediately recognize his own complex.

Armie went up a flight of stairs, and sure enough.. this was his floor. He almost didn’t believe it until he walked to his door and stared at the number. Yup, that was right number and, yup, his own keys fit into the lock. Which, brought up another foggy question of how the hell he got into that stranger’s place without having the right keys. That was something to think about at a much later time since his poor head needed more time to recover.

He went inside and made a b-line for his bed. Armie barely had the sense to charge his phone before he closed his eyes, and it was a good thing he did since he proceeded to pass out a minute later.

**Fri, Apr 27** 7:01 AM

****  
  
_[Timothée]_  


You won’t believe what just happened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this entire series will be heavily influenced based off of what all of you folks want to see so be sure to leave a comment on here or send me a message [over here!](http://peche-keen.tumblr.com/)


	4. Congruent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ## con·gru·ent
> 
> /kənˈɡro͞oənt,ˈkäNGɡro͞oənt/  
>  _adjective_  
>  1\. in geometry, two figures or objects are congruent if they have the same shape and size, or if one has the same shape and size as the mirror image of the other

Being woken up a second time hadn't been any more comforting than the first. Armie had his face scrunched from the light that seeped past his closed eyelids. He tried to shove his head into some sort of shaded cover, but the attempt almost left him with a black eye. The momentum of his hand had been misjudged when he went to pull the covers over his head, and his knuckles collided with his cheekbone. That definitely startled him enough to open his eyes, and he cursed at the added throb of pain.

Yet, despite the rude awakening by none other than himself, he had a nice opportunity to just bask in absolute stillness, and the lord only knows that he needed that right now. He felt incredibly disoriented because of _the weirdest_ dream he just had. It was something along the lines of waking up in a stranger’s place without any recollection of how he got there. That in itself wasn’t necessarily unheard of since he had his share of very drunken hookups in the past, but the last inebriated rendezvous had been years ago. He stopped doing that when he got married, and never got back into the swing of things even when they got divorced. All the action his drunken self saw were hard felt emotions with the occasional consolation of his own hand. So to do all of that in real life was a little difficult to stomach, but to dream it? Maybe it was a sign that he really did need to get himself back out there after all.

Armie laid there with his eyes stuck on the gritty texture of the ceiling. The feeling of how real the dream had been was so.. palpable; like he had really climbed a flight of stairs to get into his own place after suffering through an embarrassing conversation- if anyone could even call it that in the first place.

What time was it?

He blindly groped for his phone and found that it wasn’t on. Odd. The device was turned on and he let it rest on his chest as it started up. There was a series of buzzing that told him he had gotten a handful of messages via one app or another, and he sighed quietly. Hopefully, it wasn’t anything urgent because his head felt extremely tender. It begged the question of how much he had drank last night, and.. why did it feel like this wasn’t the first time he asked that question to himself today?

The time was checked and he frowned even further. It was 10:29 AM. Normally, he woke up around around 8, but then again he supposed that the copious amounts of alcohol had changed that. Whatever. He scrolled through the notifications that showed on the lock screen, and ignored all of them except for one text message.

**Fri, Apr 27** 7:01 AM

****

**_[Timothée]_**  


You won’t believe what just happened.

**Fri, Apr 27** 10:49 AM

****

**_[Armie]_**  
And what’s that?

Spill the tea, T.

****

**_[Timothée]_**  


..wow

That was..

Aaanyways…

~~So there’s this~~

~~Some guy crashed at my place but I didn’t~~

Okay, this is really weird.

Like REALLY weird.

But I went to get my laundry and took around 10ish mins 

to get back into my room. I left the door unlocked because I mean..

it wouldn’t take long for me to get back upstairs and..

**_[Armie]_**  
And…..

****

**_[Timothée]_**  


And I come back to see someone passed out on my couch?

Idk why I put a question mark because it happened.

And I thought that someone else was here like. Idk. Paranoia? 

I thought someone broke in to steal my stuff but it was just this..

Really big dude. Like he was massive.

**_[Armie]_**  
Wait.

Hang on. What??

Someone randomly shows up all knocked out on your couch.

Like this big dude and? Are you ok??

  
There was a churn of unease that rolled in his gut as his fingers typed out the message. First of all, he was really worried about the situation Timothée had been in- was still in maybe? Secondly, this.. sort of coincided with the fragmented dream he could have sworn he had. Waking up on someone’s couch, and not knowing where the fuck he was..  


**_[Timothée]_**  


Yeah, me ok.

I mean I went to sleep with the door kind of open 

so I could hear anything that goes on.

But the guy woke up before I did and looked like shit.

Well. Kind of.

**_[Armie]_**  
Kind of??

What the hell does that mean?

Wait. You let the guy sleep there? 

You didn’t call the cops or the landlord?

~~Or me???~~

What the hell, Tim?

****

**_[Timothée]_**  


The guy was passed out!

Idk! I was in shock?

I mean he didn’t look.. dangerous?

**_[Armie]_**  
Oh my god, T.

Just because the dude’s not wielding a butcher’s knife 

doesn’t mean he’s not dangerous.

It doesn’t matter if he’s like a picture perfect thing 

of innocence or really attractive or really old or whatever.

Some bad shit could’ve happened to you!

****

**_[Timothée]_**  


Ok! Ok! I get it.

I mean he wasn’t innocent or old, ok?

**_[Armie]_**  
Or hot?

… T

Timmy.

Timothée.

  
;Armie still couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that Timothée had let a complete stranger sleep over for the night without taking any precautions or alerting someone, but what really got him was the sudden pause of response. He texted his friend’s casual nickname, waited three minutes, texted his friend’s normal nickname, waited three more minutes and then texted his legal name after that. Yet there was still no answer and he wasn’t sure what to make of that.  


**_[Armie]_**  
You have got to be shitting me.

****

**_[Timothée]_**  


It’s physically impossible to shit out a human, Armie.

**_[Armie]_**  
You’re evading, T.

Why are you evading.

****

**_[Timothée]_**  


He was hot ok??

Like really fucking hot.

Almost model status? 

Actually I wouldn’t be surprised if he was one.

**_[Armie]_**  
Wow. Ok. Tell me how you really feel.

  
Something ugly stirred within him, and he felt comfortable enough to scowl at the screen. He was alone after all, but he felt stupid for feeling this way. So, Timothée thought someone was hot. So what? It wasn’t like he was attached to his neighbor. They were just friends, and he didn’t even know what Timothée looked like anyways.

_Physical appearances doesn't have to be a deciding factor when it comes to attraction-_

Okay, hard pause right the fuck there. He was _not_ going down that lane.

  


**_[Timothée]_**  


Hey, you asked.

  


The text vibration shook in his hand as he stared at the screen. Well, Timothée wasn’t wrong but he kind of wished that he was.

  


**_[Armie]_**  
Fine. I did.

You still should’ve told someone about it.

****

**_[Timothée]_**  


Yeah. I know but it’s over now.

**_[Armie]_**  
Over?

****

**_[Timothée]_**  


Yeah, he left a few hours ago. 

I gave him some Advil because, like I said, he looked like shit.

  


Wait. Wait one goddamn second. Armie squinted at the text message and scrolled up to read through their conversation so far. Someone had gotten into Timothée’s apartment, slept there for the entire night and then left earlier this morning. Those were the facts- plain and simple, but there was this uncanny feeling that kept tugging at his conscious.

His dream came to mind again, but now he had to reevaluate if it was even a dream in the first place. Which, was absolutely fucking crazy, because it was a dream. It had to be a dream, because if it wasn’t.. then that meant he had been the culprit all along.

No way. No fucking way.

  


**_[Armie]_**  
What did this guy look like?

****

**_[Timothée]_**  


..why?

**_[Armie]_**  
Because maybe I’ll think he’s hot too (eye rolling emoji)

I’m just curious, T. Come on.

****

**_[Timothée]_**  


Hilarious

God idk I feel creepy describing him.

**_[Armie]_**  
Why?

I mean you said he’s gone right?

****

**_[Timothée]_**  


Well.

Yeah, but I’ve seen him around here.

Idk if he lives here or if he knows someone 

else here and visits a lot.

**_[Armie]_**  
Oh.

****

**_[Timothée]_**  


Yeah, oh.

**_[Armie]_**  
So not only did this dude basically do a b and e 

but you also have a crush on him.

****

**_[Timothée]_**  


Oh my god shut up.

I don’t have a crush on him.

**_[Armie]_**  
Well that’s how I’m reading it here, T.

You can’t even drop a small description.

****

**_[Timothée]_**  


Fine!

He was really tall like he was basically 

the length of my couch.

Kind of taller since his feet were off the edge.

He’s blond, has some stubble, built, 

kind of tan, really blue eyes and a really deep voice.

  


Tall, blond, has stubble, built, kind of tan, really blue eyes, and has a really deep voice. Armie repeated those words over and over again in his head and nearly balked. It was a coincidence- that’s it. There were a lot of people that could fit the same description. Yeah, a ton.

  


**_[Armie]_**  
Wow sounds like a ken doll (tongue sticking out emoji)

I’m kidding.

I still can’t believe he just passed out there. 

Was he like.. dressed right?

****

**_[Timothée]_**  


What the hell does ‘dressed right’ even mean?

**_[Armie]_**  
You know like actually clothed.

****

**_[Timothée]_**  


What are you insinuating, Armie.

**_[Armie]_**  
Idk

I’m just asking ok?

Drunk people do crazy ass shit

****

**_[Timothée]_**  


You’re not.. wrong.

He was fully clothed. Black and white striped shirt 

and black jeans, I think? Something like that.

  


That.. sounds like something he owned, and he almost dreaded to look down at what he was currently wearing. Yet he did it anyways. Armie slowly peeled back the blanket and saw a black and white striped shirt. He didn’t need to swing his legs out to know that he was wearing jeans, because he knew how this one pair felt. It was the only pair that fit a little tighter around the waist, and he only kept it because he knew it made his ass look great.

That aside, though, he was sure he was now experiencing heart palpitations with an almost desperate wish for a case of amnesia. The realization that he, Armand Douglas fucking Hammer, had been the person that passed out on Timothée’s couch finally connected, and he wanted nothing to do with it.

  


**_[Armie]_**  


Hey, Timmy?

I need to tell you something.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this entire series will be heavily influenced based off of what all of you folks want to see so be sure to leave a comment on here or send me a message [over here!](http://peche-keen.tumblr.com/)


	5. Converse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ## con·verse
> 
> /ˈkänˌvərs/  
>  _noun_  
>  1\. a situation, object, or statement that is the reverse of another, or that corresponds to it but with certain terms transposed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Listen to the first song Timmy sings here! ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OFPMw88KeAs)
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> [Second song can be found here!](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5ghA8QIUNOo)

This was, in simple terms, absolutely _insane_. His head was already spinning from the hangover that refused to pass, and it just got worse now that he connected two and two together about the whole 'dream' thing. His fingers had typed faster than his brain could fully process everything, and Armie stared at his cell phone with dread and regret hot on his face. Talk about bat shit _crazy_.

_Hey, Timmy? I need to tell you something._

Yet.. did he really need to? He knew he _should_ , but that was a whole new can of worms he kind of didn't want to open up. It was weird enough to know that he actually _spoke_ to Timothée. So, to actually say _'hey, so I was actually the creep that passed out on your couch, almost knocked over all your shit when I woke up, and then ran out of your place like my ass was on fire'_ was _not_ going to happen. Contrary to popular belief- Armie actually _was_ capable of feeling embarrassed and ashamed. It just didn't happen that often, but this.. well, this took the fucking cake.

Then there was the whole thing with knowing what Timothée looked like. He had been nothing less than an absolute fan when it came to his neighbor's singing, but to actually _see_ Timothée with his own eyes blew him out of the ballpark. It's possible that he was exaggerating a little bit, but the impression he got made him feel a lot more conflicted than he liked. Armie sidetracked himself with the conviction that he didn't really get a good look at Timothée this morning. Most of it was a blur. Yeah, that's it. It wasn't like he had noted how pale the man's skin was, or how easy it was to let his eyes travel up the long expanse of his neck.

_Not at fucking all._

A slow sigh was blown out before he scrubbed a hand over his face. His phone buzzed again and he didn't look at it right away. No, Armie closed his eyes and slapped himself around inside of his head for a few seconds first. Then he went to unlock his phone and see what Timothée had responded with.

**Fri, Apr 27** 11:28 AM

******_[Timothée]_**  


Hey, Armie?

What's up?

  
Goddammit. Armie knew that Timothée would answer in a similar manner, but there was a foolish part of him that had hoped for a different answer. His thumb hovered over the keyboard, but he refused to type a single letter until he could actually form a coherent response in his head first. He needed to find a way to play his way around the truth, but he also wanted to tell Timothée that he had been the culprit due to the growing guilt that latched onto him.

He had just touched the screen when a series of loud knocks sounded. It startled him enough to drop his phone on his face, and he could've wept from how terrible his luck had been this morning. First the hangover, then his shin and now _this_. His nose throbbed as he rubbed it, and Armie eased himself up to see who the hell was banging on his door.

"Yeah?" The word was out of his mouth the instant he opened the front door. He had his face scrunched with clear displeasure from being disturbed, but the look dropped almost instantly when he saw the trio that stood right before him.

"Morning, daddy!" A young voice chimed just as his leg and waist was grabbed onto.Armie glanced down at his kids, and bent down to pick them both up. Hangover be damned, he'd never let it get in the way of hugging Harper and Ford. "Hey, you're here bright and early." They really weren't since it was past 10 AM, and the look he got from Elizabeth told him that right away. All she did was level him a certain look and he knew that he had spoken without thinking again.

"We already ate, but Harper's been asking about your pancakes all week," Elizabeth said with a fondness that was only reserved for their children. Armie knew that none of it was directed in his directions but he was okay with that; especially since the last fight they had.

"Oh, yeah? Is that right? Well you're both in luck 'cause I haven't eaten yet so let's get cooking," he said with the brightest grin he could manage. Harper practically squealed right into his ear, and Ford grabbed onto the front of his shirt with a bright, gummy smile on his face. Elizabeth smiled at the kids, gave him a less warm look and then waved before she left.

\-------------------------------

**Fri, Apr 27** 5:53 PM

****

**_[Armie]_**  
Hey, sorry.

Have my kids for the rest of the week

Only been a few hours but they've been a handful.

  
He barely had the time to send out those texts before he had to put his phone back down again. "Ford- how'd you get one leg off?" His son looked up at him with his arms raised and half of his pants off. Armie got Ford's clothing situated, and was looped into Harper's insistent chattering about her week for the third time. He had to put in a hundred and ten percent of his concentration, because she was so meticulous with the details. Well, he also thoroughly enjoyed listening to his kids talk about anything and everything too.

The only thing that weighed him down was that damn hangover. His head and stomach didn't try to cave in on itself anymore, but he still felt rather tired despite the sleep he got. Ford's bedtime was coming up, but his son was having none of it. The one year old's blue eyes stayed rounded and intent on their surroundings. Then came the peals of squealing that always seemed to confuse the hell out of Archie from how high pitched the sounds were.

  
**_[Timothée]_**  


It's alright. Tell them I said hi! [smiling emoji]

  
Armie read the messages a few minutes later when he was seated on the couch and he smiled softly.

"Who's that?" Harper asked as she came over to peer over his phone. "Is it mama?"

He handed Ford one of toys his son had tossed to the side and glanced at Harper. "No, it's not mama. It's my friend." Ford took the toy and threw it right back at him a moment later with a gleeful laugh.

"Your friend? Is it uncle Nick?" Harper asked excitedly as she leaned back to look at him.

"No, it's not uncle Nick either. It's my friend- neighbor," he said in a small fumble.

"Friend neighbor?" Harper parroted back with a small frown of confusion.

"Yeah, he's a friend and my neighbor," Armie clarified. "He lives below me and he's pretty nice." Yeah, pretty nice in more than one way, but that was neither here nor there. He had gone most of the day without hounding himself for what happened last night, and he wasn't about to go down that rabbit hole now.

"Can I meet him?"

She had asked with wide eyes and such sincerity that it made him melt a little. "Maybe one day, but not now," Armie said with a smile as he tucked back a strand of hair behind her ear.

The reply made her frown and pout a little. "Why not?"

"Because he's a busy man, Hops." It wasn't a complete lie, but it wasn't the whole truth either. He still didn't know what Timothée did for a living, but he winged it as an excuse anyways. Harper seemed to accept that answer, but looked a little crestfallen about it. It pulled at his heart to see her frown so much, but he wasn't about to be all gung ho about meeting his neighbor. Not when he hadn't even told Timothée that they _had_ actually met face to face; much less with his children in tow as well.

He was about to try and redirect her attention to something else before an idea struck him. "But we can listen to him." She looked at him quizzically and he knew it was too late to turn back now. "We play this.. game where he sings sometimes and after he's done I write him a note," he said as an explanation while he went to text Timothée.

  


**_[Armie]_**  
Are you in for the night?

**_[Timothée]_**  


Yeah, I am. Why?

**_[Armie]_**  
I'm having a hard time getting the rascals to bed and

**_[Timothée]_**  


And?

**_[Armie]_**  
And can you do me a solid and sing? 

I kind of told Hops about it and she's dying to hear you.

**_[Timothée]_**  


She is?

**_[Armie]_**  
Yeah, she is and Ford's won't stop bouncing everywhere. 

Just keep it rated G.

**_[Timothée]_**  


Do you honestly think I'll sing something explicit

When there are children present?

I thought you knew me better than that, Armz.

  
Oh, he kind of did know, but he had to physically bite down on the inside of his cheek as he kicked that thought out and responded.

**_[Armie]_**  
I know, I know. It just comes out when 

the kids are around [tongue sticking out emoji ]

**_[Timothée]_**  


I'm kidding, man. I get it.

I'll keep it rated G. Any requests?

  
“A note?”

Harper’s question sidetracked him and he looked over at her to answer. “Yeah, a note. Sometimes I tell him thank you for singing a nice song and sometimes I say something silly.”

“Silly like what?” A big smile started to spread across her face as she spoke, and Armie didn’t disappoint her when he leaned over to haul her onto his lap.

“Silly like maybe you should sing on some helium or sing like a big time opera singer!” Armie said as he started to tickle her. Harper wriggled and screamed bloody murder, but he kept tickling her and tried to avoid getting elbowed in the face. He blew a loud raspberry on the side of her neck and she squealed again.

“No more!” She laughed and struggled to get out of his hold. Armie chuckled and made sure she didn’t trip and fall before he went to text Timothée.

  


**_[Armie]_**  
Maybe a lullaby? Anything’s fine tbh.

  
“When can we hear him sing, daddy?”

Armie tucked his phone into his back pocket and stood up. “A few minutes. Come on, let’s get some blankets and pillows to set up outside.” He didn’t need to say it twice before Harper zipped off to gather as many blankets as she could carry. “Be careful, Hops,” he called out as she waddled her way towards the balcony door. There was a reassuring shout back at him and he shook his head fondly.

“Hey there, buddy,” Armie said as he bent down to pick Ford up.

“Up!” His son said with his arms held above his head .

“Uh huh, up’s right.” He settled Ford against his hip before he went around the room to grab a few pillows. The balcony door was left ajar, and he nudged it open with his foot to see Harper tugging at the corner of the second blanket with a concentrated scowl on her face. “Here, you wanna arrange these too?” Armie held out the pillows and she took them with a nod.

Five minutes later all four of them were settled on the ground in a comfortable nook of blankets. Armie sat against the outside wall with Ford laying on his stomach, and a blanket was pulled up to his son’s shoulders. Harper sat at the far end of their covered space with her full focus on the ledge. She had asked when his neighbor would sing a handful of times within the past three minutes, and he reminded her that they had to be patient. Armie also sent a quick text to see if Timothée was actually going to take him up on his request, and he had received a confirmation in return.

Archie yawned to Harper's right and flopped down next to the little girl. "Are you sure he's gonna sing, daddy?" She asked and immediately lowered her voice into a whisper when Armie motioned her to quiet down.

"Yes, I'm sure. We just have to be patient and wait, okay?" He said in a low murmur. Harper nodded back and crawled over to huddle against Armie's left side. The blanket was moved so all three of them could fit under it.

_"Les rêves qui sommeillent dans nos coeurs.."_

A low voice broke through the muted ambiance of the city and drifted towards them. Harper perked up and opened her mouth to speak, but Armie made a shushing gesture before he tapped his ear to tell her to listen. Armie knew what song this was, and it looked like Harper did as well given the way she leaned forward with a growing smile on her face. He mirrored her expression and soothed a hand over the top of Ford's head as his son closed his eyes.

_"Au creux de la nuit.. habillent nos chagrins de bonheur, dans le doux secret de l'oubli. Écoute ton rêve, et demain le soleil brillera toujours.. même si ton coeur a l'âme en peine il faut y croire quand même: le rêve d'une vie, c'est l'amour. Le rêve de ma vie, c'est l'amour. Même si ton cœur a l'âme en peine il faut y croire quand même: le rêve d'une vie, c'est l'amour.."_

The singing slowed to a stop and he watched as Harper sat up straight. "I know that song!" She whispered excitedly as she looked back at him. "It's from, uh.. Cinderella, but it doesn't sound like the normal one."

"That's because it's in French," Armie hummed back quietly as he took his phone out.

  


**_[Armie]_**  
A dream is a wish your heart makes?

**_[Timothée]_**  


My sister used to sing it to me a lot.

Give me a second for round 2.

  
Round two? He was about to send a message back, but stopped when he heard Timothée start to hum again. Harper turned to look towards the ledge again and saw Archie's ears perk in the slightest way.

_"And as the rain fell, I couldn't quite tell.. if those were tear drops in your eyes. We both thought that this would last, so how could it end so fast... we didn't want to say goodbye. And I know we're so far away that it's hard to say "Hello Again", but it's much harder to pretend that we're only two old friends, so let's say "Hello Again..." Hello Again."_

\-------------------------------

Silence fell over them again and he tried his hardest to keep still. Ford had fallen asleep halfway through the song, but Harper didn't seem to be tired in the slightest. Armie untangled himself from the blanket and carefully stood up with Ford cradled against him.

"Daddy- what about the note?" Harper asked quietly as she went to stand up as well.

"Let me tuck Ford in first. Then we can do it, okay?" He said as the door was opened as quietly as he could. "Go ahead and get some paper and markers out, and I'll meet you in the living room." There was a soft _okay_ in return as he made his way to the spare bedroom.

Armie reemerged once he tucked Ford in and made sure his son was fast asleep. There was a rather impressive stack of notepads, construction paper, a bucket of markers and most of the pens from his work desk on the coffee table that greeted him once he stepped into the room. "Whoa, how many notes did you want to leave him?" He asked in a joking manner.

"Lots, daddy," Harper said with a small scrunch to her nose. "I wanna use this one, but I didn't know which ones you wanted." She admitted in a quieter tone as her eyes fell down to the spread.

"Why thank you." Armie sat down next to his daughter and picked at the pile for a second before he got a piece of green paper. "Do you know what you're going to write?"

"Uh huh," Harper said absently as she picked out a skinny pink marker. "Wait- what's his name?"

Well, shit. Armie faltered for a few seconds and found it ridiculous that he couldn't give a name right away. "Timmy." He settled on and breathed a small sigh of relief when Harper started to write and didn't question him again for the next few minutes. When they were both done he took her down to the lobby to drop the notes off.

"When's he gonna read them?" Harper asked as they got into the elevator lift.

"Probably in the morning." Armie shrugged as he pressed the button to close the doors.

"How do you know he reads them?" She asked as she looked up.

"We text about it sometime during the day." He knew that he shouldn't have said that, because he knew his daughter would look at him funny.

"If you text about it then why do you leave notes?"

Armie looked at the metal doors in front of them and ruffled the back of his hair. "It's a game, Hops." That's all it was after all. A game.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this probably went in a different direction than most of you folks were expecting, but i couldn't help it! i honestly melted and cried the whoel time while i wrote it too because of how pure it turned out to be tbh.
> 
> this entire series will be heavily influenced based off of what all of you folks want to see so be sure to leave a comment on here or send me a message [over here!](http://peche-keen.tumblr.com/)


	6. 1/2ling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i couldn't just skip over what armie and harper wrote so there's a small thing! the notes will be in blockquotes (and most of harper's were written by armie except for the beginning and signature).

> _Thanks again for doing that. I know this is redundant since I'm going to text you the same thing anyways, but I seriously appreciate it and I owe you one. Ford passed out before the second song was done. Also, you have a new fan and Hops is probably going to make a list of songs that she wants you to sing._
> 
>   
>  _-Armie_

> _Hi Mr. Timmy! I liked your singing a lot. You have a nice voice. Can you sing I Wan'na Be Like You or Be Our Guest? Daddy sings them a lot and it's funny._
> 
>   
>  - _Harper_

**Sat, Apr 28** 12:08 PM

****  
**_[Timothée]_**  


You sing I Wan'na Be Like You and Be Our Guest a lot?

Actually, my first question should've been.. you sing?

**_[Armie]_**  
Everyone can 'sing', T. 

Some are just better than others. 

**_[Timothée]_**  


Okkkkkkkk now you're evading 

[tongue sticking out emoji]

**_[Armie]_**  
So what if I am? 

**_[Timothée]_**  


So it's totally unfair since you dogged on me the other day 

[rolling eye emoji]

**_[Armie]_**  
I didn't 'dog' on you 

I was just stating what I was picking up

**_[Timothée]_**  


Well you kept picking and now I'm doing the same

Out with it, Armz

I did do you a solid

**_[Armie]_**  
That you did and I'm just yanking your leg, T 

Yes, I do sing those songs for my kids

I even make faces and put on a show for them too

Hops loses her shit when I do The Bear Necessities 

since I'm Baloo according to her

**_[Timothée]_**  


Oh my god

Oh. My god

That is the best thing I've heard all morning

**_[Armie]_**  
Timmy it's past noon. It's not morning

**_[Timothée]_**  


I could've been up before noon for all you know 

[tongue sticking out emoji]

**_[Armie]_**  
Touche. Touche.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this entire series will be heavily influenced based off of what all of you folks want to see so be sure to leave a comment on here or send me a message [over here!](http://peche-keen.tumblr.com/)


	7. Intersection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ## in·ter·sec·tion
> 
> /ˌin(t)ərˈsekSH(ə)n/  
>  _noun_  
>  1\. the point where two lines meet or cross

It's been a little over a week and he still couldn't get it out of his head. If he didn't have Harper and Ford for the weekend he probably would've come out with it already, but they were quite the handful until they were picked up on Sunday night. After that.. well, he didn't really have an excuse to stay radio silent about the faulty incident that happened last Friday. He had plenty of chances to tell Timothée that he knew who the random drunk was, but he floundered on it for most of the week. There would be the urge to confess, and then he would back away from it just as fast. It was like his brain was a dying light bulb, and the flickering was starting to annoy the hell out of him.

The guilt constantly sat in the base of his gut, and it only grew heavier whenever Timothée sang. It also didn't help that they texted like normal, but he was still stubborn enough to keep his lips sealed shut. Timothée would be none the wiser while he stewed in his own dilemma. He probably could have gone weeks, months even, without fessing up, but things took a turn when Saturday rolled around.

He should've known something would go wrong based on how energetic Archie was since the morning. The Welsh Terrier had been nothing less than an _actual terror_ with the endless cycles of running and rolling. Armie almost tripped over his dog five times before noon, and he actually tumbled in the living room when Archie decided to zip by him out of nowhere. He had fallen with a shout of surprise, and laid there just to swear at the ceiling for a good minute.

Armie had, had enough when 3 p.m. hit, and hooked Archie's collar to the dog leash. "Come on, let's go walk that energy off," Armie grumbled out loud as he grabbed a plastic bag and his keys. He had been seriously tempted to carry his dog outside since the terrier wouldn't stay still. The door was locked after several attempts to get the dang key into the lock since Archie kept pulling at the leash. He nearly tripped over the leash a few times on their way to the stairwell. Armie then came to regret his decision to not carry Archie outside shortly after they took a few steps down the stairs.

Someone opened the stairwell door a floor below them and it sent Archie into a barking frenzy. Paws scrabbled against the steps as the canine yanked at the leash and broke free from Armie's hold. "Arch-" He choked on the word as he flung an arm out to balance himself before he could fall down the stairs. The sharp stinging sensation of his palm meeting the concrete wall made him hiss in pain. Armie stared helplessly at the blur of fur that raced down to greet the stranger- no, wait. That wasn't a stranger it was...

"Oh, fuck," he whispered to himself before he sprung into action. His feet clambered down the stairs haphazardly until he was close enough to try and snag his dog's leash off of the floor. Keyword: tried since he missed and had to stand up with his hands on his knees just so he could catch his breath. Archie already had his paws on the other man's shins, and Armie saw slender fingers scratch behind the terrier's ears. "Hey, sorry- didn't mean for him to fly down here like that. Can you get that for me, T?" His own heavy pants echoed in his ears as adrenaline and blood rushed through his system. The other man went completely still for a second before they locked eyes. Armie furrowed his brows in confusion when neither one of them moved, but then realization kicked in and he swore he wanted to _bury_ himself alive.

Timothée stared at him like he had seen a ghost, and it wasn't exactly that far from the truth. He might as well have been a spirit since he had fucked off and hid himself after that drunken incident last week. He knew that Timothée didn't know who he really was- he _had_ known, but he had just blown his flimsy cover within a span of seconds.

"You.." Timothée mumbled slowly; green eyes still wide in shock, confusion, and probably some terror. All of which were very understandable reactions, but Armie got sidetracked by the hint of hazel in the brunet's irises for a second. This was the closest they had been, to his knowledge at least, and he wasn't sure if he wanted to hurl or laugh.

"Uh.. yeah?" Armie cringed openly from how lame he sounded just then, but there were bigger things to worry about. Things like how blatantly obvious it was that Timothée was starting to connect the dots. He could practically see the gears turn behind the other's bright eyes. Wait- _bright?_ What the hell was he thinking? No, he knew what he was thinking, but the description felt unwarranted even though he knew it wasn't.

Timothée broke eye contact and looked down at the collar he had his fingers hook around. "Wait-" The tag was fumbled for, and the brunet took a step back when the engraved name was exposed. "Archie?" The terrier perked at the sound of it's name, but all of Timothée's attention was pinned on Armie.

If he wasn't red in the face from the burst of exertion then he sure as hell was now due to the jumble of cringe worthy embarrassment. He remembered telling Timothée what his dong's name was, and it wasn't like he could play it off since Archie wasn't _that_ common of a name. Armie awkwardly cleared his throat and grimaced from how dry his mouth felt all of the sudden. "Yup.." It's amazing how fast all of his attempts to figure out how to confess to Timothée went to shit.

Yup. He had said _yup_ out of all things.

"No way." Timothée barely spoke above a whisper as he looked Armie over. "You're.. oh my god. _Oh_ my god- _no way_ ," he repeated in an increasingly louder voice than before. A hand was brought up to cover his mouth as Timothée kept his eyes on Armie. "You're the guy that-"

"Uh huh," Armie interjected with his eyes adverted down to at his shoes.

"And you're-"

"Uh huh," Armie said again as he raised a hand to rub the back of his neck. "I'm him and the other him, and it's.. nice to finally meet you? Face to face?" His voice almost cracked from the high pitch of guilt and nervousness that overtook him. There was a small, strangled noise that sounded from Timothée and he looked up to see the other's pale complexion heat up.

"Whoa- hey, are you okay? Don't pass out on me here." Concern laced his words as he straightened up. He almost took a step forward to reach out on instinct, but he caught himself in time and stayed rooted to his spot.

"Yeah- yeah, I'm just.." Timothée trailed off as he raked a hand through his curls. _"Holy shit."_

Try as he might, Armie couldn't help but chortle back. "Yeah, holy shit's right," he said with a small groan as he dropped his hand. His eyes dropped back down and he saw how Archie started to sniff around the stairs. "Oh, fuck- hey, um, not to be a spoilsport here, but I was going out for a walk and I'd rather not have him piss inside." Armie snapped his fingers a few times to get his dog's attention and went to pick up the leash. "Sorry if I kept you from something-"

"You didn't," Timothée cut in with a small grimace on his face. "I was just going to stretch my legs."

Armie frowned and eyed Timothée suspiciously before he reminded himself that he had no right to do so. Not after the shit he had pulled. "What a, uh, coincidence," he said slowly. "Do you want to.. walk with us?"

Timothée clearly hesitated for a moment before he gave the barest of nods. "Yeah, the more the merrier or something.. right?" He said as he started to walk down the last flight of stairs. 

"Uh, yeah, right." Armie agreed dumbly as he followed suit with Archie by his side. "The more the merrier." Except the only merry things here were his goddamn dog and how stupidly happy he was that Timothée didn't deck him in the face or run away; both of which he admittedly deserved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AND HERE WE HAVE IT! THEY FINALLY MEET! with this being said this is the last chapter for this part. i'll be starting another part for this series sometime tomorrow (or the next day)!
> 
> this entire series will be heavily influenced based off of what all of you folks want to see so be sure to leave a comment on here or send me a message [over here!](http://peche-keen.tumblr.com/)


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